


Dreams of Arlathan

by Skells



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Arlathan, Blood Magic, Dirthamen - Freeform, Elvhen, Elvhen Pantheon, Falon'din - Freeform, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Original Character(s), Suicide trigger warning, Tevinter, Tevinter Imperium, blood trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:26:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3952342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skells/pseuds/Skells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the year -173 Ancient a Falon'Din temple was invaded by agents of Tevinter as a request from a Magister. They weren’t the first sent, but they had heard the stories involving the temple and the sheer number of mercenaries that were lost within it. This story follows the path of one of the hosts of the temple on a world that she no longer recognizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> diiirthamen (@tumblr) and falondiiin (@tumblr) were inspirations and amazing contributors to this fic. Not only helping me with their beautifully crafted headcanons but their amazing writing. Thank you so much, and I can only hope that you’ll enjoy this. Also thanks to fenxshiral (@tumblr) for his glorious work with the elvhen project. Thank you so much for dragonagefics (@tumblr). I can’t begin to express how much this blog helped me feel better about my writing. Also, dialogue which is in italic is elvhen.
> 
> Music: Woodkid - Iron + Zack Hemsey - The Way (Instrumental) 
> 
> translations:  
> 1 - You are not welcome here

Once they were guided, but for many years there was nothing. No slow and assuring voice guiding them to their duties, no comfort when they walked the desolated roads built with their own bare and bloodied hands, no presence to receive their prayers.

Her blood-shot eyes opened burning with the dim green light, her skeletal thin fingers convulsed around her staff as her chest was forcefully lifted from the stone where she rested. Cracked lips twisted, grasping for the air that shred her throat. A metallic taste invaded her mouth as she leaned on her tall staff feeling loose hair fall on her face. Two shadows moved quickly past hear, she could hear their voices though drowned by the pain that filled her head. Her feet moved fast past the many lines of closed white sarcophagi. Bellow them she could feel multiple steps, she could hear their voices speaking in tongues that she had heard previous intruders utter. It made her sick.

Her feet walked on the halls that once were majestic, now they were covered in decaying corpses and blood smeared upon it's walls. The sound of bones breaking under her bare feet  echoed. In the dim light she could see symbols on their shields and clothes. A golden crowned skull on some, and a dragon on others... She had seen the former symbol in the fade from their brothers in Arlathan,  it was of the children from the north. They called themselves Tevinter Imperium and they were nothing but scavengers and thieves. They had no right to walk in this sacred place.

 

The first thing that the intruders heard were whispers, sneers coming from inside the golden walls as they moved deeper inside the temple. Leading deeper into the temple there were many corpses decorating the walls and floor, their eyes had been gauged out and strange writings had been left on their rotting skin. The company was composed of a dozen men and women, and all had heard strange stories about this place. The whispers from inside the walls didn't help the uneasy feeling that grew on their stomach, neither did the request from the Magister to take five of his own. The request only made them feel more uncomfortable and unsure if accepting the job was a good idea. The magisters had their faces covered with cloth and their bodies covered with light armor.

They were in the middle of the stairs down to the main part of the temple when the company came to a halt. The whispers had stopped and two small lights appeared on the bottom of the stairs disappearing almost immediately.

Arrows cut the air from the top of the stairs as two mercenaries fell on the floor with a loud bang, a thick dark red blood spreading from their bodies. Their chest slashed from the hip to the top of their shoulders. The attackers moved fast and silently, the only thing the mercenaries could see was the dim light that their black armour reflected on the veil fire that the magisters brought with them. The mercenaries jumped to their weapons moving as best they could in the cramped stairs. Blades sliced the shadows hearing only the sound of barriers retaliating the steel with a intense ring.  

 _"Ane tel’vhallem amahn!" 1_ the walls whispered, the voices overlapped each other making the mercenaries' chest resonate. The magisters didn't seemed unnerved by the events as their eyes followed the shadows with attention and hunger. The mercenaries' bodies were pushed against the walls and unseen blades cut their limbs painting the golden stones.

The magisters stayed out of the fight, protecting themselves (and only themselves) with barriers, passively watching as the bodies piled around them. With the light from the veil fire they saw a bloody claw coming from the bottom of the stairs grabbing three mercenaries and dragging them to the darkness bellow. The five magisters then turned their backs against each other holding firmly their staffs with both hands blocking the staircase. Around them, blood from the fallen mercenaries crawled towards the magisters. It climbed their boots and legs soaking everything in their path. As it touched their armoured hands it rushed towards the staffs. The blood moved tirelessly, pulsing violently against the metal staffs.

As one of the shadows came closer to them a chilling cracking noise rang across the temple. The body of an elf fell on their feet. His face was covered in blood coming from the top of his head, painting his black hair with red. The blood covered his black tattoo lines, dripping on the floor. Left arm and leg twisted in impossible angles as his voice echoed, screaming in their savage language. He crawled towards the golden blade that had fallen a few steps bellow. He grabbed it and as he motioned the blade towards his own chest. The blood from the closest staff darted towards him involving his wrist and hands solidifying itself. The blade dropped on the floor with a ring as his hands were bound together behind his back. Black arrows flew on the tight corridor easily reflected on the magisters' barriers.

Steps could be heard from the bottom of the stairs. The male elf yelled to the darkness in their barbaric language, desperation spreading across his face. The steps stopped and two bloody claws darted from the shadows towards the barrier. With a deafening screech the long fingers scratched it. Blood dripped from the claws as they hit it harder. The magisters trembled steadying themselves as the hits got harder and the screech louder.

The magisters lift their hands from the staffs which hovered in front of them. The blood from the staffs floated now on top of them turning into small and sharp projectiles. More black arrows hit the barrier as another shadow dodged the projectiles. When a drop of blood pierced it, she stumbled hitting the wall to her right. Her breathing was heavy as blood poured from her right shoulder. Long and wild white hair fell on her shoulders and dark red tattoos were painted across her face, chest and arms. Her steps were slower, but she kept on moving throwing her bow to the floor and getting two blades from the hilts.

The blade fell from the right hand ringing as a scream escaped her lips. Her left hand grabbed her arm as her small grey eyes filled with hatred stared down the magisters. The male elf coughed blood on the stone as he screamed towards the white haired elf. She continued walking towards them holding the blade on her left hand fiercely. More projectiles hit her on the legs and face. Her march was heavier but she refused to stop. The blood on her skin spread to her wrists forming tight bands. Her face twitched with the pain, as her knees gave in. The bands morphed, forcing her wrists closer. The more she twitched and turned to free herself, the more the bands dug in her flesh.

 

 

Heavy and fast steps could be heard climbing up the stairs as the attack of the claws grew more vicious. The blood projectiles were redirected towards the magisters with a swift movement of the left claw as a third shadow emerged from the deeps launching itself against the barriers. Her skin had once been of an amber tone, now it was greyed with multiple bloody scars across her naked tattooed arms. Her eyes burnt red in the darkness, savage like a wild beast. The claws were formed from the deep scars that ran from the upper part of her arms and shoulders.

Her closed claws heaved against the barriers. She could feel it shaking and cracking before her blows. The blood that floated above the magisters started hovering towards her claws. The magisters grabbed their staffs and the blood darted to them pulsing harder on the surface of the staff. One of the magisters looked to the others and the dread was palpable in the air around them. The barrier would break at any moment. Removing a small dagger from their hilts they cut the left hand, holding the staff on the right. As the shadow pounded against the barrier once more they held their hands in her direction.

The barrier cracked with a deafening bang as the elf turned to them lifting her claws. Her right foot moved to the front but the rest of her body refused to do so. She could not believe that not only the shemlen were using blood magic but also that they were able to use it on her with such effectiveness. The insolence was almost too much to bare, her arms twitched with anger. If Dirthamen was there to see this... The insult would be too great and they would be nothing but ashes. Yet, she was weak. She could not erase the shame that burnt on her lungs. Her skinny legs convulsed as she bit her lip, feeling the blood drip from it to the floor. Her foot dragged on the stone as the magisters looked in awe, their bloody hands shook intensely. A small pool of their own blood was now forming at their feet.

"We can't kill them." one of the magisters spoke in a deep and exhausted voice, guessing what one of the others would say. Her vision was getting blurred and her limbs heavy as the blood soaked her long black hair. The claws started melting, dripping across the golden floor. Her feet dragging her towards the magisters. The screams from her brothers echoed in the distance.

 _"Falon'din... Lethanavir..."_  the whisper was fragile and soft, a broken prayer. Her legs were failing. She wished she had the strength to end it, but her arms stopped responding. The red blaze on her eyes died as her bloodshot brown eyes blinked  _"Guide my feet, calm my soul..."_  throat dry with the blood from the lip. Her mind was cloudy and her lips barely moved   _"Lead me to my rest."_

The only hope was that the intruders would end their lives so they could finally find their way to their master in the beyond. She didn't have any hope of that happening when everything stopped.

The dreams were no longer soothed by his guidance so only nightmares remained.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for falondiiin(@tumblr) and diiirthamen(@tumblr) for being so patient with me and my questions. And I’ve spent this whole week drowning myself in rp blogs. ellasin(@tumblr), theharellan(@tumblr) and path-of-sorrows(@tumblr), falondiiin(@tumblr) and diiirthamen(@tumblr) you make my days better with your beautiful writing and threads. Thank you. Seriously, if I didn’t have to work I would spend all my day reading your stuff. Lastly, the dialogs in italic are elvhen.
> 
> music: The Witcher 3 Soundtrack - Sword of Destiny

_“Vhenan!”_

When her eyes opened the smell of humid grass and rust invaded her nostrils. Her face turned from the dark grass to the sky above. The bright spots swimming in the abyss whirled with the rest of the world. Dancing, they were dancing without her. Her hands and feet bound with slightly closed and healed scars. Her blood shot eyes moved slowly catching the deeply wounded wrists from the white haired elf. Her eyelids tight as she howled aggressively to something happening to their right. More of her blood poured down her hands as her movements became more and more erratic and violent. Everything moved in a sluggish rhythm as the screams around her started making sense. The pale elf bowed her head, the dark red vallaslin twisting in a broken expression. Thin chin touching the top of her armoured chest as she wept silently. Body trembling as she dragged herself forward.

Pain spread from her chest to the rest of her body, burning each scar that passed as her chest raised from the ground. The long and wavy hair glued to her bloody forehead. The intruders were further down, with their backs turned to them. Bright lights and loud blasts of metal ringing could be heard. She followed the fair skinned elf to a body that laid on the ground not far off from where she was sitting. The elf now laid down with her forehead touching the corpse mumbling the rites for the departed.

The face of her brother stared at the stars above them. Blood poured from his body onto the field like a hasty stream towards the shemlen. The only sound she could hear was her sister’s voice, heartbroken and hoarse. Once they were many, but now only two remained from the temple. That thought hurt, but the thought that they had failed their God hurt deeper and when they were to meet Him again, they would need to pay the price. And she would embrace it. But now, another one was gone and could not rest where it was intended. For all she knew they were the last of the Elvhen.

The obsidian haired elf moved her eyes to her own bound feet. Blood encircled them like her sister and fallen brother. They still held her strongly, but their captures weren’t there to mend the damage that she could make. She turned her face towards the shemlen. They were far and focused on something else besides them. She could see shields on those that attacked them: a crowned skull. Not elves or allies, but it would have to do.

There was a chance that they could escape.

She looked around her franticly as she fought the numb sensation on her fingers and the lightness that fell on her senses. The blood pulsed violently as she shut her eyes tight. The blood melted tainting her hands and dripping on the ground. With her hands and feet free she dragged herself towards the distraught elf doing the same to her shackles. She didn’t move, the sobbing just got harder. She held her thin and pale ankles and a dim white light glowed from her hands as the scars healed slightly. She then to her own feet. The pain was consistent but bearable, so when she stopped thin drops of blood still lined her golden skin. She turned to the other elf holding her shoulder firmly, her gaunt shoulders were tense and they shook beneath her touch.

_“We need to go.”_  a clash from the shields in the distance. The mage tightened the grip on her shoulder as her sister leaned more on his corpse. Her left fingers twined with his long straight hair and her right hand his cold hand. She moved her shoulder to free herself from the grip. The mage’s lips twisted, with a sneer she pulled her shoulder forcing her swollen eyes to face her. Her tired grey eyes shone by the rage and grief  _“Now.”_  her brown eyes moved to the humans as the other’s eyes moved to his corpse, the sobs got louder as her torso threaten to collapse.

Her tears made a path on her bloodied face revealing the vallaslin. Her gaze turned to the invaders as wrath set her beautiful eyes ablaze. But it was too late, her pale hand was being grabbed by the older elf as they sprinted on the opposite direction.

_“We have to fight lethalan! We must **avenge** him!”_ her grip only got stronger as she turned to face the younger elf only for a few seconds. Bitterness spilled from her lips like poison as the wind cut their face. Bushes cut their bruised legs, roots twisted their steps as another clash could be heard in the distance. The other elf now grabbed onto whatever she could to slow them down. The ebony haired elf turned facing her grey eyes furious, panting. Eyes squinted as her legs dwindle. Blood painted the bottom of her lip as she moved towards her small figure  _“With WHAT?!”_  she inquired with a harsh tone as she restarted her march  _“We have no weapons an…”_  The sound of battle had died and now hurried steps could be heard behind them. She moved quickly switching positions with the elf. She turned reaching the pale’s elf face with her hands, kissing her forehead with tenderness and then letting go. 

_“Go.”_  she ordered in a hushed tone. They had wasted their time and now it was time to deal with the consequences. She heard her small and bare feet run behind her. Steadying herself, the rough roots and dirt could be felt below her bruised feet. The only option was to delay them. She did not know exactly where they were, but there was a chance of one of them finding someone or a temple once they had time to get their bearings. She moved behind a tree breathing deeply, her sight was blurred and it was getting harder to breathe as her head pounded harder.

Her hands shook as small icy orbs formed on her palms and thrown to the main path were she had stood before. Intricate symbols arose on the floor and rapidly disappeared. Her ribs ached with each shallow breath. Her body threaten to collapse as her nails grabbed the bark of the tree crumbling on her fingers. The mines exploded as shattered ice flew between the trees leaving a trace of vapour behind them. Two of the human mages had activated the mines, freezing their bodies up to the middle of their chest. The others had their cloth armour wet as they moved with fire on her hands to aid their companions. Her left arm raised towards the invaders as thin sparks ignited on her hand fluttering around her heavily tattooed and scarred fingers. Quickly she moved her hand to the sky as thunder fell on the main path and ice pieces shattered against the trees.

She did not stay to see that the hand of one of the frozen shem had been blown with the ice. She did not see that one of them was lying on the ground convulsing violently as part of his armour was aflame. She ran with all the speed she could muster. Half broken braids flying behind her as she grabbed onto branches to help her move. Lungs burned and her armour grew heavier with her own blood. She could hear her heartbeat louder than anything else as her feet gave in. Her body fell against a tree hitting her battered hands against the hard bark. A heavy wind blew against the trees as she lift her head, a steep cliff loomed on the path ahead.

There was no sign of her sister. She closed her eyes breathing deeply, forcing her body up.

She ran between trees bordering the cliff until she saw her. Long and straight pearly hair floating with the wind and shining with the moon. She stood on the edge of the cliff with eyes closed and chin up facing towards the shem. They surrounded her when the dark haired elf sprinted on their direction. Air escaped the elf’s lungs as it torn her throat. The pale elf moved her bare feet backwards, towards the cliff.

_“DA'LEN!”_  she took another step back, letting her body dive into the darkness. There was no more burning lungs, no more heavy eyes, no more loud heartbeat, no more pain as the silver was consumed by the darkness below. Only her own scream ringing inside her head.

She didn’t feel her feet stop or her toes digging through the dirt. She didn’t feel her fists be set ablaze as her focus shift from the abyss to the humans which now stared down mumbling words on their dirty and primitive language. She lift her arm towards her lips digging her teeth into the flesh. Her fingers were enveloped with the red substance sharpening the edges. The earth trembled and small rocks floated around her as she launched herself towards the closest murderer. Her hand dug itself deep into his gut hearing a surprised groan and his eyes were engulfed by the ferocity in hers. She withdrew her hand moving both of her hands to the waist level, palms towards the floor as a telekinetic wave hit the mages around her. The shem, now bent and moving his hands to the wound was thrown down the cliff as the elf turned to face the others.

They had no name, no life before Falon'din guided their bodies. She was Falon’din’s vessel, no other names were necessary. No other names were wanted. Before meeting Falon’din in the beyond though, she would send as many shem as she could to pave her path to Him.

 

Low sobs could be heard as she moved her feet across the simple white halls, long and beautifully tree branches were drawn across the walls and on the floor, small blue stones were set seemingly random with the white stone. Orders had been carried out. The bodies of the deceased littered the small rooms of the small house, their eyes looking into oblivion as they were now guided by the Friend of the Dead. In the end, all would be guided by their master to the Beyond. Refusing to serve him in life was foolish and imprudent. He was a kind and merciful God, accepting to his ranks even those who had chosen another before him. The faces of the departed had thin tree branches drawn on their foreheads and chins. It no longer mattered and it was not what called her attention. There was meant to be no one there, yet crying still echoed in her ear drums.

A small child cried among the corpses. Her tiny, bloodied hands wrapped around the cloth of the shirt of a female elf that stared beyond her. Face bare and silver hair with stains of red.  _Mamae! Mamae!_ The child was untouched, unharmed by the battle that had come to pass. The mage moved silently and quickly coming closer to the child. When finally she noticed her presence she stared with bitterness and disgust towards the invader. The mage’s armour shone with the light that came from the window, a mixture of black cloth and golden metal with stains of blood. Her skin of amber with deep black circles under her curious eyes. Her hands gloveless drenched with blood and scars overlapping the vallaslin that run on her body.

The child’s hands moved to grab the dagger on her mother’s hands pointing it towards her. Wind came from the blown entrance door making the long black braids from the blood mage to drift as a small smile mused her cracked lips. She was too fast for the small child as the blade was smacked off her hand ringing while it skipped along the floor. The mage was now face to face to her, bending her knees and looking into the scared and wild grey eyes.

Her two hands motioned to the sides of her face as the child screamed and trashed. Skin painted with the red from the open scars on her hands. The golden skin of the mage seemed to gleam with the sun coming from outside, as did the small trinkets attached to partitions her long braids. The child struggled to free herself from the grasp as the mage motioned her face forward kissing her forehead ever so slightly.

_“Sleep, da'len.”_ her fingers moved now slowly on the side of her face as the blood from her hand moved towards the small elf. Her eyes turned on her skull and her body went limp. The ebony haired elf lift the tiny and fragile body on her arms as she walked out into the bright sun.

 

Now, the silver haired elf slept forever, following Falon'din’s steps into the Beyond.  
And she was alone with monsters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music: Zhao Shen - Beyond & Zack Hemsey - Vengeance   
> Notes: I would suggest you listen to the two songs mentioned above in order. ‘Beyond’ for the first part and for the second part 'Vengeance’. Again, the italic dialog is elvhen.

It had been a strenuous trip. There had been rumours from the north that he felt it was safer to investigate than let it run rampant. Taking too many people would call attention to them, yet he felt uneasy taking such a small company. Leaning on his staff, he looked apprehensively at the many maps and notes thrown around on a cut tree stump. The rest of his company sat by the small camp fire behind him, their voices barely got to him as he made quick notes on the edges of the map. They all had long and thin vallaslin across their faces, yet he was the only one which they spread to the rest of his body. It had been a gift from the Mother, and it was something that was greatly treasured.

His name was called as the fire was put out. They would need to move again by dawn, but there were still things that he needed to do before retiring. His hands grabbed a meagre stub as a small flame erupted from the tip of his finger lighting it.  He sat down heavily on the cold ground, tracing with his fingers the roads on the map in front of him.

She ran, brushing her bare bronze arms against the thorns of the bushes that surrounded her. He recognized where the place was, not far from where their camp was set. Her black vallaslin crept from the torn armour which she ripped from her body, making it easier to run. Breathing so heavy and loud that he could swear that she was right in front of him. Long wavy hair glued to her skull and back as she evaded something that pursued her with bare and bloodied feet. Her face turned revealing her full frame. His hands grew colder and his heart beat faster. Last time he’d seen that face she didn’t have the dark vallaslin from the Friend of the Dead, but it was unmistakable. Her screams and pleas for help made his skin crawl, her tears fell from her eyes clearing a path on her bloodied face.

He could feel his throat dry as his eyes jolted open. Her screams still rang on his ears as he got up and grabbed the staff leaving camp in silence.

Bare fingers laced on each other and no scars. There was only the whistling of the wind filling the air with their half smiles. Soft and warm lips and skin made of gold. He could still hear himself calling out to her on a hot summer day as she bathed under the burning sun. The way that the breeze wrapped her wavy hair and her loud laugh filled the air around her. She filled the air with her scent everywhere she went.

He hadn’t seen her in years. He even believed that he didn’t wish to see her ever again, but seeing how hasty his steps were and how his heart pounded in his chest, that was clearly untrue. He reached a small clearing seeing a foot creeping behind a huge root that crawled around a colossal tree. Her small body laid on the dry grass with her face turned down. He slowly walked towards her feeling his hands shaking and his lungs holding his breath, threatening to collapse. His knees touched the ground softly as his hand moved to hold her face and hand. His hands removed the hair that stuck on her face, caressing it carefully. There were many open scars among the obsidian vallaslin that littered her skin. So much blood.

His clear eyes moved across her face. His lips were compressed as he held her hand with his trembling hands, bowing his head. His other hand laid her head on the grass, moving then to remove the hood over his head. The right side of his head was shaved, but long brown braids fell on his left shoulder as his body quivered. Mythal’s vallaslin twisted in agony while confusion brewed in his eyes.

He stayed knelt before her body under the trees. He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it wasn’t enough. He was not ready to leave, but when he felt a presence on his back he held his staff and turned to see the spitting image to the woman the was holding staring down at him. Her expression unreadable as she held her dark staff on her left hand, her right hand held up with blood swimming around her scarred fingers. She was silent. Her armour was worn and dry blood tainted the golden details of it. Small owl trinkets hanged from her braids, dancing with the wind.

 _“Uthelgara?”_  confusion now dripped from his eyes onto his face, voice hoarse and tired as he got up from the grass. She didn’t react to her name, it was like he had said nothing   _“What…?”_  he motioned backwards, turning his face towards the body that he had held. It was of a female elf, but not of who he saw a few seconds ago. The elf skin was pale and grey with long brown hair that once curled into beautiful locks. Many symbols had been carved on her skin across her face and limbs. Shock and disgust now spread across his face.

He moved towards the dark haired elf that now stood before him. He couldn’t understand, his eyes screamed at her like thunder. She had never done such a thing before. Her eyes moved from him to the corpse and back at him.

 _“Why the rouse?”_  his voice was serious and furious, he gripped his staff with so much strength that his hand ached. He feared hearing the answer as his eyes examined her. Her arms were only covered by a thin black cloth which hang from her shoulders leaving part of her arms bare. Scars. So many scars over her vallaslin. Her figure still seemed the same, yet the heat that she radiated seemed now… cold. He walked closer to her, carefully  _“What has happened to you vhen…?”_  she lift her face, facing him. He felt his words dying in his throat as her warm fingers touched his face, tracing his vallaslin. He felt his eyes burn as her deep brown eyes seemed to engulf them. Her eyes still shone the same way as before.

 _“I was afraid…”_  her voice was nothing but a dying whisper, her eyes red and watery as she moved closer to him. Her arms were so skinny and her body so fragile. He stood there, frozen as she moved to his chest, resting her long braided head on the silver armour. She sobbed as his hands moved unconsciously to caress her back. Her scent brought him back to so many years ago. It was a sensation that he hadn’t felt in a very long time… Home, peace.  _“I was **so** afraid vhenan…”_ she moved away to be able to face him. Her lips stretched horizontally as her hands cleaned the tears that fell from her eyes  _“I don’t want to do this anymore…”_  He was unable to speak as the woman in front of him crumbled on herself. War was brewing between the temples of her God and his, was that what she meant? The bags under her eyes were heavy and her face made of pure anguish as she looked into his blue eyes.

_“They have eyes everywhere.”_

Her eyes grew bigger as she looked up to the trees, voice in a hushed and urgent tone. Her body shook heavily. He had not seen any animal around their camp, or received reports of it. He knew of Dirthamen and his shadow, and it was not his desire to be in the sight of Him _“Come with me, we’ll leave this place… Go somewhere safe…”_ Her voice dripped with despair as his mind raced. A small and hopeful smile was drawn on her lips. She moved closer to him embracing him.

He could not deny that she had been more present on his thoughts lately, more than she had in the years since she vanished. The request was enticing, yet he had a duty to his people and to the Mother. Yet, as she stood there, looking to him with hope and calling him to a life that he believed unworthy of him. He wanted it, and she needed him. So many years had passed and he knew what was coming. If he were to bring her back to camp and take her with him back to the temple, he would probably never see her again. He knew all too well what would happen if she was found. If it were by the followers of Mythal or the others, she would be taken as a war prisoner. If it was by Falon'din or Dirthamen… He could only imagine what they did to deserters. He touched her hair and gave a smile which was returned, as she guided him into the woods.

A guide.   
She is nothing but a vessel of the guide.

As they stopped to rest, she laid her head on his chest feeling his heart beat faintly beneath her ear. She traced the dark blue vallaslin on his hand with the tip of her fingers as she looked to the dying sun between the trees. The brown eyes closed and let herself cry silently in his arms one last time.

Her choice had been made long ago, but now she had proof.

_“Bring him to me…”_

“Let me see if I get this straight….” he massaged his temple, closing his dark brown eyes with irritation dripping in each word he uttered. Four magisters stood before him, each battered and bruised with their heads hanging low. One of the female apprentices had lost her hand which was hidden under the long sleeves of her robes. He had seen it before they entered the room. It had a horrible scar and now the stub was wrapped in some cloth until they were able to get proper healing. She still shook, staring at the floor without blinking “There were only three of those guardians on the temple, yet you managed to get two of them killed?” he had been called there due to his knowledge of elvhen. There weren’t many elven slaves who were fluent on it, yet he didn’t want to be there. That sentence was intriguing though, it wasn’t often that slaves only knew to speak elvhen, much less coming from temples. Still, he did not dare look up to him, he wouldn’t dare to be curious about it. Not there. “As if that wasn’t bad enough, you managed to get one of my apprentices killed…”

The apprentices dared not speak. The magister bit his own lip, gritting his teeth as he looked away. A heavy silence fell on the golden room as the magister motioned for him to pour a glass of wine. The male elf moved to his master’s aid, pouring the dark red liquid onto the cup, moving back to his small chair. He sighed heavily as he drank from the cup.

“I will deal with your failure later.” his voice was displeased, but his eyes spoke volumes of the curiosity and hunger for who they had captured. The male elf could not help but shiver and look away, reducing his breathing as much as he could until he would became invisible “Bring her in.”

Her exposed body looked so small as they dragged her in the room. She was unconscious and blood poured from her arms, legs and head staining the carpets on the floor. Her ankles, feet and neck were bound with silvirite and the smell of blood that filled the room was nauseating. The fragile state of her body made his stomach crawl. He had seen other slaves come in before, but nothing like this. One of the magisters carried the armour that she wore before the capture putting it on the table next to the master, yet the eyes of the elf servant were fixed on the jagged bite on her arm. His stomach threatened to turn, but he could not look away.

They forced her back to the conscious state and held her chains tightly. Her body convulsed and twisted on itself as long forgotten words were screamed by her. He recognized the words, and knew their meaning as he recognized the markings on her face and who it belonged to. It was rare to see a dalish elf so heavily tattooed, or speaking elvhen so fluently. Her seizures finally died down as she lift her head to face her captors.

Her tired and swollen eyes moved across each robed human stopping on him. Her expression transformed from confusion to deep loathing in a matter of seconds as the male elf could feel his face burn with her gaze. He lowered his eyes, staring at his closed fists.

 _“Do you have any idea of what I am, filth?”_  her voice was hoarse and deep, the way that it moved with the elvhen tongue forced his eyes up. Her voice was tired and worn, but sounded beautiful. She still stared at him. The up part of her head dripped with blood from an open wound on the scalp. To his relief, she moved her eyes to his Master, sitting on his golden throne sipping on his wine. He motioned with his left hand to the male elf which jolted on his chair without looking at him.

 _“He is your new master._ ” he spoke slowly, making sure that his words were understood. There wasn’t an ounce of fear on her demeanour as she glared the human lord. Perhaps he had made a mistake on his words and she did not understand… He was going to repeat when she moved her face back to him  _“I have a master. A God which I serve even when I depart to the Beyond. There is not a single soul here or in the Beyond that is as worthy for my worship than Him.”_  his confused expression only made her irritation more apparent. He translated what she had said with a hesitant tone to his Master.

As he was doing so, she began speaking again. Her lips twisted in pure revulsion, moving her chest up trying to make her back straight. A grunt of pain escaped her lips when the magisters pulled the chain on her neck, forcing her head to bow interrupting her speech. Blood spilled from her mouth as she coughed violently. When she lift her head, a twisted smile painted her broken lips and bloodied teeth. He had heard stories of warriors of Arlathan, nothing more, but her eyes… The violence behind her eyes made his core shake. What finally came off her lips made his blood freeze and his face lose colour.

“So…” the elf moved uncomfortably in his chair, moving his face to the master as he spoke. His arm moved to the table examining a silver pendant of a feather that lay on top of the black armour “What did she say?”

“I’m not sure it’s wise master…” he muttered in a low voice, fear crept in like a wave. That defiance would get her killed. The magister shot a warning look to the slave as he motioned towards his staff “She said…” his throat dried and his voice shook. He looked into the brown eyes of the elf in front of him which stared into his master. There was nothing but disgust written on them, her head was held high as she stared him down. Body bound and broken, but unbent. He had seen that flame be put out many times over in other slaves, he did not wish to see it again. With a heavy heart, his sight moved away from her figure “I will see you and your false Idols burn before I submit to a…” his master still stared at him, full attention as his words seemed to get stuck on his throat. He lowered his eyes further, trembling “a… filthy shemlen pretender.”

The magister’s eyes moved from the male elf to the defying, broken elf in front of him. A vicious smile crept on his thin lips as he got up. His golden robes getting stained by the blood on the floor as he walked towards the amber skinned elf. He stopped towering over her and did nothing. The male elf stood with his heart pounding in his chest as he did not motioned to punish the elf.

“We shall see.” his words were calm as his eyes examined the vallaslin that spread across her skin. Her lips curled as she spat blood to his feet. The male elf was frozen on his chair, begging silently to be dismissed. The magister turned to his apprentices, waving his hands. They were dismissed. The elf got up moving towards the door as calmly as he could “Not you.” his march stopped dead on his tracks as his eyes closed and his breathing got heavier “You will tell me everything she says.”

He bowed his head, closing the door in front of him. Turning on his heels, he walked towards his master avoiding the bloodied elf’s gaze.


End file.
